


White Rabbit

by vernie_klein



Series: Like the Heart Goes [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But again- if you haven't watched it, Coda to an episode, Dean better watch out, Episode: s02e14 Born Under a Bad Sign, Gotta love Jefferson Airplane, M/M, My take on the boys getting their protection tattoos, Part Seven in a Series, Sam loves his brother, Some Spoilers, Still technically pre-slash, Talk of sex, Tattoos and Piercings, The boys don't touch each other, he really does, some jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4210152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vernie_klein/pseuds/vernie_klein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Part Seven in the Series</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam and Dean travel to Georgia. They get matching tattoos... and the fandom swoons.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>This is the story of Sam and Dean Winchester. Not the story we've seen played out on our television screens a million times, but the story of what happened to get them to where they are today. The story of two brother's souls, so tightly woven together, that neither can be whole.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(each story can be read independently of each other)</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> I love this part. It is my take on the brothers getting their protection tattoos after they leave Bobby's. I am still disappointed that Kripke never chose to at least talk about it. After all, we see Mrs Tran and Kevin get theirs... 
> 
> The title is a song by Jefferson Airplane. Some of which eventually became Jefferson Starship and others just Starship. (Don't ask... it's better to be ignorant.) It is a nod to Dean, but also to the fact that while Sam was possessed by Meg, I would like to think it would have been one bad acid trip.
> 
> _White Rabbit_ was written by Grace Slick when she was still with The Great Society. It has been attributed to Jefferson Airplane even though none of the other members had anything to do with the songs origins.

**SamAndDean**

Sam sighed in the passenger seat of the Impala. It was dark, and raining. It always seemed like it was raining. Sam ran a shaky hand over the blossoming bruise on his jaw. Dean had clocked him good. Of course, Sam deserved it, even if it had _actually_ been Meg kicking Dean’s ass. He could see how his brother couldn’t separate the two. 

Sam fiddled with the tiny charm that Bobby had given each of them. He wondered where he would keep it for the protection to work. Sam didn’t carry a wallet like Dean, just a money clip that had been given to him as a gift for his sixteenth birthday. Sam guessed that he could string it up and wear it as a necklace, but it could get pulled off. He couldn’t figure out how Dean had kept his two necklaces on for so many years without having some monster tear them off. Sam gasped as he had an epiphany.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam fiddled with the charm between his finger and thumb.

“Not changing the station, Sammy.” Dean chided as he glanced at his brother.

“Not what I wanted, Dean.” Sam snapped. “I was wondering if there was any place open on your body for a new tattoo.”

Sam turned toward his brother. He knew that Dean had few places left on his body for tattoos. He tended to collect them like he collected one night stands.

“Got a space right over my heart, Sammy. Why? Want me to put your name there in a cartoon heart?” Dean ribbed.

Sam blushed. He hoped that Dean wasn’t looking too close at his face. “I just meant-”

“Aww… Did I make little Sammy blush?” 

“Stop it Dean.” Sam smacked his brother in the arm and smiled as Dean winced and rubbed the spot. “I’m being serious. I’m all kinds of confused after that possession and I really want to make fucking _certain_ it doesn’t happen again.”

“So, you’re thinking tattoos?” Dean smiled. Sam knew that he would be happy to go under the gun again. Sam, on the other hand, only had one tattoo. It was one that a fellow Hunter did when he was fifteen. He had the letter ‘D’ tattooed on the big toe of his left foot. Dean never noticed it because shortly after, he started growing hair on his toes and it hid the tiny, embellished script ‘D’. It had kept Sam _sane_ after ‘The Big One’ as Sam referred to the fight they had three and a half years ago. 

“I’ll call Bobby. You figure those charms would be better as tattoos, right?” Dean smiled seriously.

“I do. I know that I would lose this charm faster than you can say possession.” Sam fingered the pentagram charm again. He especially liked the sunburst around it.

“Yeah.” Dean fumbled for his phone as he drove one handed. He flipped the screen and held down the two. Sam smiled knowing he was Dean’s number one speed dial.

He half listened to Dean’s conversation with Bobby, catching words like _blood_ and _inconspicuous_. Sam tuned out Dean and listened to the radio. _White Rabbit_ by Jefferson Airplane was playing. If that’s not how Sam’s last eight days felt. Things were so foggy. He wasn’t lying when he told Dean he only remembered bits and pieces. He distinctly remembered killing Steve Wandell. He also remembered everything that happened with Jo at that bar. Sam figured he’d never get Meg’s sing-song _My Daddy shot your Daddy in the head_ out of his memory, _ever_. What was worse though was shooting his own brother. That was inexcusable.

The lyrics tugged at him. The feeling of being drugged, not really knowing what was going on. Jefferson Airplane had it right. Demon possession was like being fucked hard and put away wet, all while on the worst acid trip of your life. He let the lyrics of the psychedelic song wash over him as Dean hung up with their Uncle.

Dean smacked Sam on the shoulder. Sam assumed it was because his eye were closed and his head was leaned back on the bench.

“Huh?” Sam snorted lightly.

“Don’t you wanna hear what Bobby said?” Dean pulled over into a highway rest area. Sam nodded and waited for Dean to begin. “He said that it’s a good idea to get the protection symbols as tattoos. He also said that we should get them some place that demons can’t see right away. Someplace almost always covered in clothes, like over your heart. I know you only have the one tattoo-”

Sam paled.

“Oh God, Sam. Like you could hide anything from me. So, since it is your only tattoo, you can get yours over your heart too. He also said to have the artist mix a little of our blood in the ink. Yours in mine and mine in yours. It adds to the protection. You’re already such a huge part of me…”

Sam smiled as Dean trailed off. He thought Bobby’s idea was great. He would have even more of Dean with him.

“I know an artist in Georgia. Met him a coupla years back. Real good guy. Won’t question _or_ charge an arm and a leg. Adding blood to tattoo ink ain’t exactly _legal_ you know. I’ll call him and if he agrees, we’ll head that way.”

Sam nodded and closed his eyes. He just wanted to sleep for a hundred years. “Well, I guess that works. So this guy-”

“No, Sam. Just drop it. Can’t a guy have friends?” Dean yanked the keys from the ignition. “I’m gunna take a piss. You in?”

“Need me to hold it for you?” Sam chuckled. “Cause let me tell you, if you think _that’s_ impressive, you ain’t seen nothing.”

“Sam, quit being a little bitch-”

“Jerk, there ain’t nothing little about me.” Sam gestured to his crotch.

“Oh my God, Sam.” Dean’s eyes went wide as saucers. “I did not need that mental image. You have turned me off to even _thinking_ about dicks for like- forever.” Dean shuddered and quickly left the car.

Sam smiled and leaned his head back on the seat top. He sighed and adjusted his hips. Dean even looking at his crotch caused him to get hard. Sam pulled on the front of his jeans and decided that- _fuck it all_. Dean would be a few minutes or fifteen. He knew his brother needed to call that guy, calm down, and smoke about seven hundred cigarettes. He hated the fact that Dean smoked, but was glad that he didn’t do it in the Impala. He was glad that Dean treated his _Baby_ with such reverence. Mud, Blood, and Sperm- Dean claimed he could get out of leather. Cigarette smoke, not so much. So, he never smoked in the car.

Sam popped the button on his jeans and pulled down the zipper. He palmed his cock through his boxers and hissed at the sensation. Sam glanced out of the passenger window and, not seeing his brother, pulled his boxers down over his hips exposing his cock to the cooler air of the car. Sam spit in his left hand and made a loose fist around his throbbing erection. He tipped his head back again and closed his eyes as he steadily stroked up and down. He pushed at the crease under the head as he stroked, rubbing the vein. He moaned at the feeling. Sam’s callouses created excellent friction as he pulled harder. Heat pooled in his belly as he twisted and yanked the swollen flesh. Sam whimpered but didn’t stop as he closed his eyes tighter when the drivers door opened and then closed. Sam couldn’t stop now, he was so close. He moved his right hand down to cup and pull on his ball sack. Sam heard a moan from somewhere near the driver’s seat, and he tried not to pay attention to the hot breath ghosting in ear. He felt the air displace around him as Dean pulled back out of Sam’s personal space. He whimpered again, this time from the lost. Sam felt his balls tighten and he pulled once, gasping as hot ribbons of thick come shot from his cock. He felt his come hit his chin and neck. He heard a breathy _Sam_ and groaned as the aftershocks hit. His spent cock twitched once again at his brother’s voice and shot a weak stream that landed on Sam’s thumb. He loosened his grip and dropped his hand to the bench seat next to him.

Sam kept his eyes closed as he breathed deep. The salty tang of come, his brother’s Marlboro reds, and sweat invaded his senses. He couldn’t believe that he just sat there and watched him jerk off. If Sam hadn’t just come, the thought of Dean would have made him cream again. Sam heard Dean rustle around behind him in the backseat and chuckled as a soft cloth hit his spent cock.

“Clean up, you lazy fucker.” Dean laughed as he started the car. Sam continued to sit there, eyes closed. He chuckled after a moment and began wiping the come dripping off himself. Sam dabbed the last of the fluid off his chin and chucked the rag at his brother as he backed out of their parking space.

“Bitch. What was that for?” Dean picked up the offending cloth and threw it in the backseat.

Sam smiled. “Cause you’re a dirty perv.” He plucked at the hem of his soiled tee and whipped it over his head. The shirt joined the rag in the back seat.

“I’m not the dirty perv… You are. Please tell me you’re not going to sit there all- _shirtless_ all the way to Georgia.”

“Pretty sure it’s a two day drive there, Dean. Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?” Sam ran his palm down his chest. He stopped to finger each of his nipples and grinned as Dean whimpered when he ran his hand over his tight abs.

“See something you like, _big brother_?” Sam purred as he stroked his abdomen again. He arched his back slightly and bit bottom lip, worrying the flesh between his perfect teeth.

“Fucker, knock it off. I’m trying to drive.” Dean blushed.

“Whatever, jerk. Fucking drive then.” Sam chuckled and settled in to his seat for the long drive.

**SamAndDean**

They pulled into a driveway off the main street in the tiny town of Crawford just outside Athens, Georgia two days later. Sam had given up teasing Dean with his semi-nakedness somewhere around Saint Louis. Dean no longer rose to the bait, so he finally put clothes on. Sam felt Dean push on his shoulder.

“I’m up, Dean. Have been for a few hours. We here?” Sam stretched as best as he could with his overlarge frame. He groaned and glanced toward Dean. Sam smirked behind his arm as Dean moaned and pulled on his crotch to adjust himself. “So, who is this guy anyway?”

“His name’s Greg. Met him on that job in Orleans. Spent a few days after the Hunt with him. He did the crossed guns on my back.” Dean’s face turned a light shade of pink making his freckles stand out.

“Oh… That’s a good one. Gonna get any other work done while we’re here?” Sam glanced at Dean as he pulled his overshirt on.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe… But I was thinking bout getting my dick pierced.”

Sam sputtered and raised an eyebrow. “Really?” His voice went an octave higher. He cleared his throat before continuing. “You know you can’t have sex for like, _weeks_ after a prince albert.”

“And you would know that, _how_?” Dean smirked.

“I had a friend at Stanford who got it done our Freshman Year.” Sam stated suspiciously. 

“And? Did you- _try it out_?” Dean whispered the last three words in Sam’s ear, elongating the ‘t’. 

“Dean!” Sam hissed.

Dean chuckled and straightened out, moving quickly and efficiently to get out of the Impala. Sam followed and fell into step half a beat behind Dean on his right, their default position. He stopped his brother with a hand to the bicep and leaned forward, grazing the shell of Dean’s ear with his lips.

“Best lay of my life.” Sam breathed in Dean’s ear and flicked the lobe with his tongue. He pushed his brother lightly to get him moving again. “Come on, big boy. It’s not _that_ shocking.” He chuckled as Dean shook his head and walked up the steps to the porch.

Sam watched on as the front door swung open and a burly, muscular man with a short beard stepped onto the porch. He took the man, whom he assumed to be Greg, in as he yelled _Dean_ at his brother and extended his arms wide. The man was a few inches shorter than Sam, but still taller than Dean. His arms and legs were covered in tattoos, all well done. He was wearing cargo shorts and a white tank top undershirt, showing off his art. Sam pursed his lips and nodded. Greg was a really good looking guy. He stood on as Greg engulfed Dean in the friendliest hug Sam had ever seen his brother in. He watched in awe as Dean’s face broke out in a wide, genuine smile and he hugged Greg back with enthusiasm. After some time, Sam cleared his throat and Dean broke away from the older man, his cheeks tinted pink.

“Greg, this is my- Sam.” Dean stuttered as he gestured him forward. “Sam, this is Greg. The tattoo artist I was telling you about.”

Sam stepped up to the burly man and squared his shoulders. He stuck out his hand and plastered what he hoped was a real smile on his face. “Hey, man. Nice to meet you. Heard a lot about you.” Sam’s eyes narrowed as Greg’s face opened wider.

“Well, I would hope it was all good things, but knowing Dean… I bet he never mentioned me til two days ago, huh?” Greg shook his head as he took Sam’s hand. Sam marvelled at how smooth his palms were.

“Yeah… of course. But what he did say was all good.” Sam shook his head slightly.

“Well. Good times had by all.” Dean interjected loudly to break the tension as he slapped Sam on the back. He pushed lightly past Greg and waltzed into the other man’s house. Greg raised and eyebrow and gestured toward the door.

Sam stepped into the space and glanced around. They had walked into a waiting room, the walls covered in flash and pieces of original art that you could choose from. He took in the row of chairs and light classical music playing in the background from the overhead speakers. Sam was impressed by the professionalism of the place. It must have shown on his face.

“I do run a professional shop.” Greg gestured to the far wall by the door to a private room. Sam followed his hand and saw the license from the city to both tattoo and pierce. His eyes glanced over the certificate of Biohazard training, one for Bloodborne Pathogens, a CPR certificate and underneath that, a certificate of continuing piercing education.

“Impressive.” Sam whistled. Greg gestured again, this time toward a room in the back through a tall archway. 

This room was more intimate. The walls were a subdued blue and free of the busy-ness of the waiting room. There was one of those trickling wall fountains going against the far wall and what Sam thought was Ravi Shankar on the cd boombox. It was a calming atmosphere for a tattoo parlour. Sam had been to a few with his friends that were loud, brash, and full of giggling girls getting stars and hearts on their ankles or shoulder blades.

I cleared my schedule for the next few days for you guys, Dean. Just in case you wanted some new work.” Greg smiled warmly at Sam’s Dean. Sams. Not some upstart dude Dean met a few years ago and hung out with, for what? A hot minute? Sam was unimpressed. Dean would say he was jealous, he wasn’t. Not really.

“Hey, Sam… You ready?” Sam watched Dean pass over a blown up copy of the charm roughly the size of a silver dollar pancake. Sam nodded.

“You want me to go first?” Dean smiled brightly, a teasing tone to his voice. “Since it’ll be your first _real_ tattoo.”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, I’ll go first. Get it over and shit so I can watch you in pain while you get your dick pierced later. I’ll appreciate it more.”

Greg raised an eyebrow and nodded as he glanced from Sam to Dean. “We doin’ a PA, Dean?”

“Was thinkin’ a reverse based on the way my dick lays hard.”

“That works.” Greg hummed to himself. “You do know that takes a little longer to heal? More tissue and shit. I’ll set everything up after the tattoos. Now, if we’re doing Sam’s first, Dean; I’ll need you to bleed out a bit in this cup. When I talked to Bobby yesterday, he said I gotta mix it with blood?”

Sam watched Dean nod and wondered why Bobby knew about this guy, but not him. He watched as Dean pulled a silver knife from his boot and deftly sliced open his left palm. He squeezed his fist over the dixie cup and let a few tablespoons drip into the clear plastic. When Greg signaled it was enough, Dean took the proffered gauze and wrapped his hand.

Sam slid up on the vinyl chair and stripped off his shirts.

“Fuck, Dean. You didn’t tell me your brother had a smokin’ hot bod. Now I’m sad.” Greg pouted as he poured the black ink into the cup of blood. “We could have totally rocked a threesome.”

Sam glanced at his brother and blushed as Dean smirked. Leave it to Dean to not be embarrassed by that kinda shit.

“Naw.” Dean drawled. “He was hung up on a little blonde surfer betty. Rockin’ the 10. _She_ was smokin’ hot.”

“What-” Greg started before Dean shook his head and gave a pointed look to his friend.

“Sorry for your loss, man.”

Sam appreciated his brother right then. “Thanks, Greg. I’m not over her, but I’m learning to get by.” Sam left it at that and Greg dropped the subject.

“So, where we putting these bad boys? You don’t have a ton of skin left, Dean.” 

Before Sam could answer, Dean piped up, cocky as ever. “Sammy here wants us to be _trwu love fowever_ , so… Left pec over the heart.” Dean’s face softened. “That way, no matter where he is… he’s always close by. Sam’s too.”

“Aww, you gushy fucking, sap.” Greg laughed as he prepped Sam’s pec with a razor. “So, Sam… Any other tattoo you want while you’re in my chair?”

“He wants _Property of Dean Winchester_ on his right ass cheek. Cause his ass belongs to _me_.” Dean laughed loudly. “Doncha, Sam?”

“Fuck you, jerk.”

“Bitch. You know you love me.”

Sam rolled his eyes but nodded as Greg started the outline. He had been so absorbed in his brother that he didn’t notice Greg place the transfer. The next forty minutes were filled with a pleasant silence, the buzzing of the tattoo gun and Ravi Shankar’s sitar. Before Sam knew it, Greg was wiping the excess ink off his chest, spraying him down with green soap and covering the newly inked flesh with plastic wrap. Dean handed over a dixie cup and his knife and Sam happily bled for his brother as Greg prepped the area for Dean.

“Sure you don’t want anything else, Sam?” Greg had Dean prepped and ready in half the time of Sam. He was already starting up his tattoo gun. 

“No. I don’t feel the need to cover my body in ink. But, if I decide on something else, I’ll let you know.” Sam nodded.

“Hey. It covers my scars and besides, chicks dig ink.” Dean smirked as Greg looked up from his outline. “And shit, dudes too.”

Sam rolled his eyes and went out to the Impala to grab his laptop. He figured he could be a total bitch to Dean and line up a Hunt while they were in Georgia. The more _athletic_ , the better. Maybe a rugaru. That would serve Dean right. Sam made his way back to the tattoo room and sat down in the spare chair. Dean and Greg were arguing the merits of silicone vs water based lube for sex. He didn’t want to know what kind of sex they were referencing. It bothered him to no end that Dean was a womanizer and _man-izer_ , if Greg was taken into account.

He had just found a possible case in Arizona when Dean smacked his shoulder letting him know he was done. “Smoke break, Sammy.” Dean wandered toward the side door Sam had missed before.

“He really loves you, you know.” Greg smiled at the closing door and sighed. “Didn’t matter how much I plied him with beer, weed, and burgers. He may have fucked me six-ways to Sunday-” Sam blushed. “But he never stopped talking about _his Sammy_. No one could compare.”

“Really?” Sam sneered incredulously. He clenched his fists and stared at the older man. He got a good look at Greg. His brown hair going grey at the temples, the lines around his eyes when he smiled… Sam thought him to be around thirty-five now that he got to staring. “Cause last time _I checked_ , Dean was sleeping his way through every county we stop in. _That_ doesn’t sound like love.”

“I’m telling you man. He really does. He just can’t figure out how to show it. He’s so afraid of rejection.” Greg clamped a hand onto Sam’s shoulder. “Help a brother out, yeah?”

Sam was just about to ask what for when Dean stepped back into the room. He clapped his hands and grinned at Sam. “Time to drop trough?”

“Dean, you are a barbarian.” Sam shook his head.

“Fuck right I am.” Dean smirked and toed off his boots. He undid the button on his jeans and pulled down the zip. Sam caught Greg spraying down the vinyl chair and laying it flat before placing a protective sheet on the seat. Dean stepped out of his jeans and hooked his thumbs in his black boxer briefs. “Here goes nothing.”

Sam rolled his eyes as his brother stood completely naked, well, except for the socks. He watched as Dean made himself comfortable on the chair while Greg readied his hollow needle and forceps. 

“Dean… You have to be hard for this.” Greg stated as he turned his back to the brothers.

“No I don’t, you fucker.” Dean smiled and laughed. “You just wanna see me hard.”

Greg laughed. “It does make it easier for jewelry sizing and shit, though. And… since you are quite the _grower_ , I don’t wanna fuck it up. You’re right though, you don’t _have_ to be hard. It just makes my life more fun.” Greg pulled an 8 gauge curved barbell out of the little set of plastic jewelry drawers.

“Now, normally in a situation like this, I would put on a video, or give you your favourite copy of _Busty Asian Beauties_. But, today… I think you could use a _different_ type of stimulus.” Greg smiled at Sam. He smacked him on the right cheek and whispered. “Go get’em, tiger.”

Sam jumped at the smack. He stepped closer to his brother and pulled Greg’s chair toward Dean. He sat down and rested his hands on the cool vinyl. Dean turned his head toward Sam’s face and smiled.

“Close your eyes, Dean.” Sam whispered as Dean slowly closed his eyes. He watched his brother’s adams apple bounce up and down as he swallowed. The anticipation was thick in the room. Greg nodded and stepped to the side, totally out of Dean’s view if he happened to open his eyes. Sam took a deep breath.

“Picture yourself in bed; soft, silky sheets beneath your naked body, Zeppelin’s _I Can’t Quit You Baby_ on repeat, low in the background.” Sam smiled and took a chance. “He runs his hand down your chest, fingers trailing over hard muscle. Twitching beneath his fingertips, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He brings calloused hands up your sides, caressing tender flesh in their path. His thumb and forefinger twist your dusky nipples and you gasp at the sensation.”

Sam peered at Dean’s groin and noticed his cock starting to stir. “His breath ghosts over your neck. You breath in a heady scent of sweat and cinnamon. An underlying hint of musk that is uniquely… _his_. You moan as he whispers in your ear…” Sam leaned forward, “ _You want me_.” He pulled back slightly. “And you can’t deny it anymore. He places open mouthed kisses down the middle of your chest, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin, the coarseness of the sparse trail leading to your full, thick cock. He licks a stripe up the underside, lathing at the heavy vein. He takes your cock in his mouth, tongue pushing in the slit, lapping up the steadily leaking juices.”

Sam waved a hand for Greg to come over. Dean was hard and Sam knew Greg would want to do this quickly. He watched as the artist threw on a pair of gloves and snatched the forceps and needle from the tray. Sam saw him gesturing to continue out of the corner of his eye.

“I- he wraps his hand around the base of your cock and strokes as he increases the suction in his mouth.” Dean whimpered lightly and thrust his hips once before Greg pinned them down with a strong forearm. “His hand moves from your cock to your balls and traces the sensitive skin behind.”

Sam bit his lip. “I tease the puckered flesh of your hole, running a nail over the wrinkled skin. Pushing one finger in and thrusting, I swallow down your cock as far as it will go, pressing on the bundle of nerves buried deep in your ass. I hum and swallow over and over as the heat pools faster and hotter in your belly. Your balls tighten up and I press harder, your cock as deep as possible down my throat.”

Greg grabbed Dean’s cock and clamped the end where he’d made his marks earlier. He quickly pressed the needle through. Dean cried out as his dick spasmed and thick, hot ropes of come shot all over his groin and on Greg. Sam noticed Greg had slipped on a plastic apron before he started the piercing. Obviously he knew that Dean would come all over.

Sam turned his attention to his brother. He was laying there, eyes glassy- wide, and panting. Sam smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he glanced Greg putting in Dean’s jewelry.

“Dude.” Dean whispered.

“Whatever, jerk.” Sam laughed.

“Okay guys,” Greg started. “no sex for at least a month. No- I’m serious. Prince Albert’s are a bitch to heal, a RPA even more so. You’ll probably hafta sit and piss for a while, a few weeks, at least til you get used to the stream. That’s an 8 gauge. Don’t go any bigger. If you end up taking it out, anything bigger might have to be surgically closed. I’m gunna give you a spray. Use it a few times a day and work the barbell slightly to keep it free. _Clean hands, Dean_. Now, if in three months or so you want to move to a solid ring, I say go for it. There are special ones out there that have no captive ball. Let me know if you need me to order you anything. Ibuprofen for the pain. Not too much alcohol.” Greg handed Dean a bottle of spray and both boys two bottles of lotion. “Lotion for the tattoos. Keep ‘em moist. That’ll keep down the scabbing. It goes without saying to not scratch or pick, _right, Dean_? I’ll tell you tonight when you can take the plastic off. You guys _are_ staying here, right?”

Sam nodded knowing at least Greg and Dean wouldn’t be having sex while they were there. “Yeah… A couple of nights at least.”

“Wanted to catch up for old times sake.” Dean piped up as he grabbed his boxers and jeans.

“Good. Now, I’m gonna go get some burgers on the grill. Get your fucking clothes on, you fucking exhibitionist.”

**SamAndDean**

Sam laid in bed that night, Dean snoring, cuddled up with his mouth near Sam’s new tattoo. He smiled, knowing even if things were weird and shaky between him and his brother, even if they _never_ crossed that mystical, imaginary line; Sam loved Dean.

And that was good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that Greg looks a lot like Benny. I totally think that if Dean was left to decide his type in guys, it would be meaty, burly dudes, like Benny. I think Cas appeals to Dean because of the fact that he is _model pretty_ like Dean and that Dean is awed by Cas' power and presence. Dean needs someone in his life that can protect him, as he has been the protector of Sam and everyone else for as long as he can remember. (Oh... and even though Greg stated that Dean fucked him six-ways to Sunday... Dean is a total Power Bottom. ~Though between you and me... I think Sammy will want to bottom sometimes too... That's if they quit pussyfooting around each other and get to the sex.~)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **"White Rabbit"**
> 
>  
> 
> _One pill makes you larger_  
>  _And one pill makes you small_  
>  _And the ones that mother gives you_  
>  _Don't do anything at all_  
>  _Go ask Alice_  
>  _When she's ten feet tall_
> 
>  
> 
> _And if you go chasing rabbits_  
>  _And you know you're going to fall_  
>  _Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar_  
>  _Has given you the call_  
>  _Call Alice_  
>  _When she was just small_
> 
>  
> 
> _When the men on the chessboard_  
>  _Get up and tell you where to go_  
>  _And you've just had some kind of mushroom_  
>  _And your mind is moving low_  
>  _Go ask Alice_  
>  _I think she'll know_
> 
>  
> 
> _When logic and proportion_  
>  _Have fallen sloppy dead_  
>  _And the White Knight is talking backwards_  
>  _And the Red Queen's off with her head_  
>  _Remember what the dormouse said_  
>  _Feed your head_  
>  _Feed your head_


End file.
